Hands Fall Together Lost Scenes
by Kihin Ranno
Summary: Certain snippets of life can't always be included in the story. Scenes cut from the already grandiose epic Hands Fall Together.
1. Scene 01: Perfect

Lost Scenes from Hands Fall Together  
Scene One: Perfect  
by Kihin Ranno

Once upon a time, there was the perfect woman. She possessed a kind of Grecian beauty with Asian influence. She had flawless skin of alabaster white, cheeks the color of a dusty sunset, and eyes one could gladly drown in. Her every movement was fluid grace. Her voice was a sweet but sensual alto. By all appearances, she was perfect save for the premature lines across her forehead. The consequence of furrowing her brow in the pursuit of knowledge. It was a flaw that somehow made her that much more pristine.

One day, that perfect woman met the perfect man. Perhaps he was not the best looking gentleman one could find with unruly hair and rumpled clothing, but that was not what made him perfect. He was a true artist, able to capture the most arbitrary, mundane object on a canvas and make it that much more beautiful. He had puppy dog brown eyes masked only by his glasses and a lopsided grin that would have made the coldest heart take him in.

The perfect woman, who had not had many friends in her lifetime thanks to her flawlessness, had a cold heart. But the man met the woman in an Anglo-Saxon Literature class, and he was floored the instant he saw her. Without even knowing her name, he went up to her and told her that she was the first living work of art he had ever seen.

Not even a heart of stone could resist that heartfelt, honest compliment. Thus, the two of them became friends, grew ever closer, and slowly but surely fell in love. They found little to nothing in common, he being the artist getting the English Major for a love of the art of painting pictures with words and she being the mistress of mathematics and science pursuing a career in medicine. But they did not care about that. They were madly in love, and that was all that mattered.

At the end of their collegiate career, the perfect boyfriend and girlfriend became the perfect husband and wife. They set up their home of happy bliss with him painting commercially to pay the bills and but his wife through medical school. Things went on joyfully for several years. However, towards the end of her residency, she made a discovery...

She was pregnant!

The perfect couple had much trouble reconciling this problem... They of course would keep this child and love it beyond all reason. But who would stay home with the baby? How were they going to afford it? How could they fit a child into their schedule? What were they going to do?

These discussions went on for the next nine months. Then, on the tenth of September, the perfect man and perfect woman gave birth to the perfect child. To the man's delight, she was the spitting image of her mother. Much to the woman's chagrin, she did not have anything of her father in her.

The woman's dubiousness continued to grow as she agreed to stay home and take care of the baby. After all, traditional Japanese custom certainly dictated that. Her husband would continue to paint commercially on the side, but for the most part, he would become the traditional Japanese salary man. Neither one was particularly happy about it, but they were too perfect to bring up their reservations about the issue. He thought she wanted to stay home. She simply didn't speak of things like that.

So for the next four years, the perfect wife and mother stayed at home while the perfect businessman went to make the living. But then something very strange happened... He stopped painting. She never left the house. And the perfect spouses seemed to be drifting. Conversations began with, "How was your day?" They ended with, "Fine." Up until then, there fights had been little things about his leaving his shoes in front of the door or her not getting enough sleep - reading too late into the night. Now their fights revolved around one thing and one thing only. Money. And the arguments weren't resolved in a few minutes. Sometimes it took hours. Days. Then they just stopped settling them at all.

It all came to a head at their little girl's perfect fourth birthday party. They had invited all of the neighborhood children, his family, her family, his colleagues, her doctor friends... Anyone who was intelligent enough to state that their child was by far the world's cutest four year old who had ever been born was invited. They had carrot cake with white frosting. The party favors were surprisingly subdued, colored in aquatic greens and sky blues. And a number of the gifts were books, which everyone knew the child would read all by herself. It was a party for the little prodigy turning four, and her parents were the picture of happiness.

Things began well enough. Games of Musical Chairs and Pin the Tail on the Donkey were only good for one round, but Red Rover could go on for hours when properly supervised. The children laughed and shrieked with youthful ecstasy while the adults kept a watchful, content eye in between mundane conversations. The party went on for hours, much longer than anticipated. However, the children did not want to leave and the adults found themselves enjoying each other's company. And so, things continued well enough.

That is until someone made the mistake of asking the perfect man how he liked his perfect job.

It cannot be equivocally stated what exactly caused him to say what he said. It is possible that it was the miniscule amount of sake that had been consumed, or perhaps it was just the marking of four miserable years gone by that made him do it. The truth is unknown to all of those outside of his mind. Whatever the case may by, the perfect man actually told the perfect truth.

"Actually, I can't stand it. More cake?"

Naturally, when the perfect woman heard this, she was stunned. No one spoke for a few moments, but when something was at last said, it came from her mouth. In spite of the proximity of the small ones, she leapt to her feet and demanded for an explanation. And he gave her one, each sentence ending with an exclamation point. He began to systematically scream about his lack of artistic inspiration, how stifling his job had proved to be spiritually, mentally, and creatively, and how he had always looked terrible in a suit. And she screamed right back about all that she had give up for him. How she had turned down so many offers from so many hospitals, the late nights she had stayed up with the baby, and the money spent on tissues from when she locked herself in the bathroom and sobbed every night at precisely 3:38 in the morning.

The argument continued, but the party ended quickly. Without so much as a wave goodbye, all of the parents collected their children (who had stopped playing at the first sign of adult conflict) and left hastily. Within five minutes, the only people in the house were the perfect man, the perfect woman, and the perfect child. After ten minutes, the perfect man left the perfect home, and he never came back.

Once upon a time, there was the perfect family...

But not anymore.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTES

I think it's fairly obvious why this scene was cut. It was meant to go at the very beginning of Chapter Three, as a sort of introduction to what was to come. But for one thing, I was surprised to learn that Mercury's appearance wasn't completely predictable. Some people were still wondering if Sailor Moon would arrive first, and I felt that chunk would pretty much kill any mystery anyone had. For another, it's too stylistically different and didn't add much to the plot. Hence, cut.


	2. Scene 02: Can't Save the World

Lost Scenes from Hands Fall Together  
Scene Two: You Can't Save the World until You Finish Your Vegetables  
by Kihin Ranno

The life of a superhero(ine), it was extremely rare when there wasn't a night out on the town defending the lives of its citizens. If there wasn't a planned attack from the dark forces to be thwarted, there was no excuse not to patrol and ensure there weren't any random demons running about, draining energy.

Unless of course a big fuzzy cat was sitting on you. Then there was no hope of moving until he did.

At least, that was what Aino Minako told herself as she sat on her family's living room couch, staring at a trite romance movie from the United States that she would have thoroughly enjoyed had she been paying attention. It was hard to be focused on entertainment when a tiny, forceful voice was telling her to get off her butt and go save the universe.

"Are you sure I can't go out?" Minako asked, tipping her head back and resting it on the back of the couch. "Not even just for a few hours?"

"No," Artemis said, somehow managed to be forceful even though he was languishing on his side as Minako rubbed his stomach. "You and I both agree that your sudden reappearance would do nothing but deter what we're trying to do."

Minako sighed. She hated sighing. It did nothing to actually help what she was sighing about and really only made her more agitated. But she did it anyway.

"I know," she agreed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. "You're right. I'm right. We're both as right as left."

Artemis winced painfully but had long since given up correcting her misquoted proverbs. At least for that evening. "You knew this would be hard."

Minako very much wanted to say that she'd had no idea it was going to be difficult to sit around and do nothing. She relished in being lazy. Or at least she'd used to. Apparently, her time as Sailor V in London had killed all of her lethargic impulses. She had noticed lately that her jaw cracked every time she yawned. She was no longer yelled at for daydreaming during class, but for constantly looking around as if expecting one of the floorboards to come to life. She'd even gotten up when her alarm rang the other day, nearly killing her mother on the spot. She was still trying to convince the woman that she wasn't ill or an alien replacement or something.

The truth was, she had always known that not working was going to be hard. It had become a habit to sneak out the window every night and hope back in every morning. It was hard for her to sleep more than three hours a night just because of the routine of it all. She'd nearly been tempted to do her homework just to distract herself, a very worrisome circumstance.

"I didn't know it was going to be this hard," Minako finally responded. "I thought I was just going to let those two handle it and wash my hands of the whole mess for awhile. But instead I'm sitting here twitching all the time, waiting to jump into action at the first sign of trouble."

"But you can't," Artemis reminded her.

"I KNOW," Minako whined loudly, toppling over to her left and burying her face in a pillow covered in Artemis's white fur. "But it still sucks."

Artemis nodded, slowly pulling himself out of his very comfortable position, stretching out every single muscle in his body before continuing on with his life. Eventually, he made his way over to Minako, who was currently gagging and spitting out mouthfuls of his fur. "They have to learn how to do it on their own."

Minako nodded, flipping over onto her back and splaying her arms out, nearly knocking Artemis off the couch. "They have to be alone or else they'll rely on me. And if they rely on me, they'll never be prepared for when the war really gets into full swing."

She paused.

"Are you sure I couldn't just shoot some Crescent Beams from the sidelines, because that would be--"

"_Minako_," Artemis chided. He wasn't amused.

Minako pouted, folding her arms across her chest. "Oh, fine. I won't help them. Never mind how much property damage is involved--"

"Less than when you're in top fighting form," Artemis added.

"Ignore the length of time it takes for them to take one out--"

"Approximately the same as you, although the majority of that is taunting and unnecessary acrobatics."

"And forget about the crude methods--"

"None of which have surpassed the fish hook," Artemis muttered, sounding quite ill. "I _still_ have nightmares about that. Just so you know."

Minako reached over and rubbed his head, messing up his perfectly groomed hair. "Baby-cat."

Artemis ignored the jab and instead set out to cleaning his fur now that she'd completely ruined his good looks. He didn't think he was the sort of cat who could pull off the rugged, messy look. "They're green. They're only slightly worse than you were when you first started out."

Minako frowned, curling her fingers in slightly. "It's his third fight. I can understand Mercury not knowing what to do, but Tuxedo Kamen should be better by now. He should be a lot better."

Artemis would have shrugged, but he was still too busy bathing. "Things are different. It isn't the same as it was back then."

"But he's so..." Minako didn't know how to properly explain it, but she tried anyway. "It's like he's winging it. It's like he's going on pure instinct and nothing else. Every victory has been luck. Chance. He's pulling everything out of his--"

"Sounds like someone I know," Artemis chuckled.

Minako was very offended. "I have plans."

"Bad plans."

"It's still a plan."

"It still falls by the wayside every time, and then you _really_ end up improvising."

Minako sniffed, flipping her hair slightly. "Well, I make it look a lot smoother then. Maybe that's it. Maybe it's so sloppy that I can't approve. That and the fact that he always leaves a bloody mess."

Artemis concurred here. "Yes, I suppose he does need to work on the concept of ducking."

"He has a lot of work to do before he's good enough for the mission," Minako informed her guardian seriously. "So does Mercury, but we'll give her time. She's a Senshi. It'll be natural for her."

Artemis frowned, twitching his whiskers a bit. "Do you suppose that's part of the reason why Tuxedo Kamen isn't doing so well? Sailor Mercury at least knows a little of who she was and why she's around. Whereas he..."

"Can't know anything," Minako remembered, screwing up her face in puzzlement. "Not even his guardian can know who he really is. So I've been told."

"Yes," Artemis nodded.

"But not why."

"No," Artemis agreed. "But then I don't know either." He glanced over at the window and stared at the moon above them. "I'm just following orders."

Minako laughed slightly. "That's what you said after mom caught you eating dinner the other night."

"I'm telling you, it was for the greater good," Artemis insisted. "If the fish had been bad and you died, we'd really be done for."

Minako sat up and reached over, ruffling his newly fixed fur again much to his eternal consternation. "I'm glad that you care so much about me, Artemis. Because of course, you couldn't have done that just because you'd miss me."

Artemis, though highly annoyed with his appearance and knowing that she wasn't serious, still purred loudly. He turned around and rubbed up against just about every body part he could reach that wouldn't earn a slap. It was comforting enough.

Minako smiled down at him before reaching for the paper sitting on the coffee table. She brought it up to her face, looking at the silhouette of the man in the mask and great black cape. Even in the candid, he had a slight smirk on his face. He was the very picture of the term debonair. Even in the still, she could tell that he was unintentionally elegant. It was strange to see him fight and move with such grace, causing such chaos.

And she had seen him fight. She'd seen the jewelry store battle and the one at the garden shop, though she'd missed the one at the juku. Artemis had managed to tell her what he could. It was generally easier for him to track the warriors anyway. She would most likely be able to catch at least part of the next one, which both she and Artemis knew was coming soon.

She had to hold herself back every time. Every sucker punch Tuxedo Kamen took, every order Luna shouted, and every scream Mercury uttered would no doubt continue to lure her back into the peril and thrill of battle. It was messy and bloody, but so exciting and fulfilling. And she wanted to be in it again. And she wanted to help her allies, to give them confidence, to train them, to show them how it was done.

But she knew they couldn't. They weren't ready for her and the role she had to play. She wasn't sure she was either.

"Prince Endymion," Minako muttered, staring at the picture of the naturally charming fighter with a plethora of instinct and little skill. "I wonder how exactly you're going to feel when we're all ready for Princess Serenity to appear?"

Artemis looked up at her gravely. "He's going to hate you if he remembers."

Minako was very still for nearly a minute before setting the paper aside. "I know."

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This got cut mostly because I could think of no place in chapter three in which this could cohesively fit. I stuck it at the end, I stuck it in between a few other scenes, I tried revising it... Nothing worked. However, I do like the little dialogue between Minako and Artemis and the small insight it gives into her character and the changes she has undergone. So here it is for your reading pleasure.


	3. Scene 03: A Series of Confrontations

Lost Scenes from Hands Fall Together  
Scene Three: A Series of Confrontations  
by Kihin Ranno  
**This Scene Does Not Take Place within the Canon of Hands Fall Together**

Nephrite said that he allowed one Terran day to pass before he made any sort of decision regarding the situation with Jadeite. This was completely and utterly untrue, and anyone he would have tried to convince of this would likely have laughed in his face.

He had always known what he was going to do and how he was going to do it, but he waited one day in order to make Kunzite think that he was being appropriately subordinate. Were it not for that, he would have followed his plan of action immediately. As it was, he had to lull Kunzite into a false sense of security before acting so that he could do some good without the commander's interference.

He walked boldly up to Queen Beryl's quarters, eyeing the two women standing watch at the door. They were part of the DD Girls, another group of Beryl's favored demons. The DD Girls comprised Beryl's personal bodyguards, not that she needed them. She was powerful enough and deadly enough to not warrant any such protection, but she kept them around for the sake of appearances and ritual. With Tetis gone, they had advanced in the hierarchy of the Dark Kingdom; they were now just below the Shitennou in terms of importance. He and Kunzite couldn't care less about this development, but Zoisite was no doubt seething.

Nephrite was pleased that Cardanka, their leader, was not there guarding the doors. Her presence would certainly not have deterred him, but she was far too reminiscent of Kunzite, just as stoic but more inclined to cruelty. That association would not have put him at ease, and it would have been too much of a reminder that he was disobeying the man's orders. That would not have put him in a good mindset for facing Beryl on the matter.

As it was, he was left to face Tarsha and Rhasta. Rhasta looked quite pleased to see him, but then she was pleased to see anything with two legs and a sex drive. Tarsha didn't appear to acknowledge him at all at first, and seemed bothered by his existence when he announced himself.

"Nephrite of the Shitennou requesting an audience with her Majesty, Queen Beryl." He supposed it would have been customary to bow, but Tarsha was his inferior, so he saw no pressing need.

She seemed offended enough by him, curling her lip. "Nephrite? You don't often venture down here."

"He's never sought audience with the Queen, Tarsha," Rhasta cooed, not even masking the fact that she wasn't making eye contact with Nephrite, looking at something else entirely. "I would have remembered."

"I have never had reason to before," Nephrite ground out, glaring openly at the pair. "It is not unbefitting of my station. Go in and request it."

Tarsha was again put off by his orders, but a look from Rhasta seemed to remind her that she was hardly high enough on the good chain to question him. Still, the orange demon gave him a hard glare before turning on her bare heel and stalking into the room. Only brief moments passed before Nephrite heard anything from inside.

"What is it, Tarsha?" the irritated voice of his liege wafted out of the chambers, filling his ears and making his head ache for reasons he would never allow himself to pinpoint. Nephrite had not been foolish enough to hope that Queen Beryl was in a good mood, and he vaguely acknowledged that most men would have avoided this confrontation for that very reason. This did nothing to change his resolve.

"The Dark King... 'Nephrite' has come to call, my Queen."

There was a pause in which Nephrite felt his heart quicken its pace in his chest, but it didn't last long. "Nephrite?" Beryl repeated, now genuinely intrigued. "How... uncommon."

Nephrite stiffened, folding his arms across his chest. Her suspicion was certainly not unfounded given his motives and how things had operated in the past. Kunzite was the one with frequent and direct contact with the Queen. He had no choice in the matter. Kunzite had to keep in close contact, overseeing the operations of the other Shitennou as well as training the army of fighting youma they had assembled for the brief and bloody war with Earth when it came time to invade. Even when he had been in charge of London operations, he had always kept his audiences private. It was Jadeite who seemed to prefer the public scrutiny. Nephrite had never been certain if it was some sort of love of the spotlight, or if he perhaps hoped that she would not kill him in front of so many witnesses. It was a fool's hope, but they were all fools at one time or another.

Nephrite was self-aware enough to know that he had surpassed foolish when he had decided to pay Beryl a call. Anything he would say in there could be counted as insubordination at best. He might even be called a traitor for siding with Jadeite and done away with as a result. Nephrite had no intention of martyring himself for Jadeite. He knew that he could escape quickly should things get ugly. Nevertheless, his presence outside of Queen Beryl's door was akin to standing on the precipice of a mountain. He had a choice between throwing himself forward on to the jagged rocks below, or falling back into the den of scorpions he frequented. While he preferred the scorpions as he knew how to avoid their sting, he knew that Jadeite was falling, and his damn loyalty was preventing him from turning a blind eye. It was the stupidest thing Nephrite had ever done.

Still, he would not falter. Nephrite had come for a reason, and he would not back down. He owed Jadeite that much.

"Nervous are we?" Rhasta's warm voice purred right up against his ear. Sharp, pointed fur dug into his arms and thighs, but he refused to so much as wince.

Nephrite didn't spare her a glance out of his peripheral vision. "No."

Rhasta smirked, her dark eyes continuing to search for his gaze. She would not be granted it. She tilted her head to the side and taunted, "I know why you're here."

"Of course you do," Nephrite said, entirely disinterested in anything she had to say.

"I just didn't know you two were that close," she baited, looking away for the first time, straightening the cuffs on her rose-colored wrists.

That managed to get his attention. His head jerked in her direction, eyes flashing. She laughed at his reaction, and he in turn darkened, gaze focused at her throat. He had choked creatures before, crushed their larynx with his hands, or snapped necks when he had no interest in dragging it out. He felt the inclination to do so once again, but he knew better. Beryl had already lost one of the greater youma. She would not be merciful to anyone if she lost another.

He took a deep breath and said, "I fail to see how my motives are any of your concern."

She scoffed demurely, leaning against the cavern walls. She effortlessly affected a posture that exaggerated her relatively modest curves. Nephrite assumed that she practiced that move all too frequently. "Relax. I can tell you're not like Zoisite if that's what you're so worried about. I just didn't realize you were... friends." She had hesitated, searching for a word that had possibly never before been uttered among their ranks.

Nephrite didn't know why, but that word that she had so carefully selected terrified him. His hands would have shaken had they not been clasped at his arms.  
He strained to keep his eyes from betraying anything, but he could tell that she had seen his lapse and was amused by it. He began to move away, not fully trusting himself or her for that matter. "I wouldn't say that."

Rhasta blinked, straightening, her smirk never leaving her lips. "As close as all that?"

Nephrite was about to respond, and judging by the set of his jaw, it was unlikely to be kind. But just then, Tarsha sauntered out, stopping directly in between him and her sister. Her expression had not changed from the moment she first saw him, and Nephrite found the familiarity strangely comforting.

"Her majesty will see you now," Tarsha rasped.

"I'm sure you did everything you could," Nephrite muttered as he walked past to enter Beryl's chambers.

He stepped through the opening in the rock and into the chamber, glancing around. Nephrite had never found the occasion to imagine what Beryl's rooms would be like, but if he had, his vision would have likely looked as it did now. It was scrapped decadence, the entire room swathed in every sort of red fabric they had managed to salvage. Whether velvet or muslin, it was used in the room. All of it was damaged or torn, burned or stained, but it had a strange sort of opulence that told of her station. The things Beryl had done or planned to do reeked from every facet of the decor, and Nephrite found himself wondering at just how much time Kunzite spent with Beryl and exactly how he'd stayed Jadeite's execution. Then Nephrite wondered what he was going to have to do.

Nephrite swallowed and tried very hard not to think about Beryl's nails.

Beryl was sitting at her vanity, waiting for him. She was still wearing the dress she always wore to court, but her crown was no longer on her head. Her face was not as hardened as he was used to seeing it, but her eyes were forever darkened with some vexation or suspicion. She drummed her nails once on the top of her vanity, and he winced.

"Nephrite," she pronounced, turning the syllables over slowly in her mouth. "I trust this isn't a social call?"

When he first opened his mouth, nothing would actually come out. He had much better luck on the second attempt. "No, your majesty," Nephrite said, forgetting to bow outside of the eyes of the court. "I came to ask you about--"

"If this is about the progression of ranks, I've already had this discussion with Zoisite," Beryl said irritably. "He pestered me about it after you left, much to my extreme irritation. I trust he's off cowering in a corner somewhere."

Nephrite couldn't help but smirk at that pleasing mental image. "No, your highness. This has nothing to do with that. I'm not so frivolous."

Beryl looked at him sidelong, and he could have sworn he saw the corner of her mouth twitch. He was probably just seeing things. "No. You aren't at that."

Nephrite watched Beryl for a moment, suddenly feeling as if Beryl had lost some of her mystique. Away from the throne and with her obsidian crown cast aside on her vanity like a worthless trinket, he couldn't help but see her as more on his own level. He knew it was blasphemy to consider that, but for one moment in time, Beryl was not the fearsome Queen he trembled before. She was just a woman.

"What did you come here for then?" Beryl asked, her voice taking on its harsh tone that reminded him that looks were often deceiving.

Nephrite blinked, straightening. "Actually - your majesty - I came to talk about Jadeite."

The statuesque woman turned white with rage at the mere mention of the man's name, her blood red nails digging into her palms so hard that Nephrite thought they would break off. She curled her lip and said, "Jadeite... I don't want to hear that dog's name until he's been done away with." She opened her eyes, looking at him through slit eyelids. "Is that what you have come to discuss?"

He was about to put forth Jadeite's case when he heard a frighteningly familiar voice rumble from the guarded corridor. He stopped cold, glancing over with blazing eyes, already preparing for the inevitable fight.

He was poised and ready for battle as Kunzite and Rhasta came through the door. Rhasta was no doubt enjoying Nephrite's predicament from the grin painted on her pink-colored face. He supposed that she had guessed that Kunzite had nothing to do with Nephrite's visit on Jadeite's behalf. After all, if Kunzite was still willing to stick his neck out in such a way, he would have come and done it himself. He would never have sent Nephrite for such a task, and Rhasta was important enough to know that.

Kunzite noticed him immediately. He set his jaw and looked directly at the subordinate general. Nephrite did not doubt that Kunzite was furious with him. He had disobeyed a direct order. Even though Nephrite knew the man was livid, he would not have been able to tell simply by looking at him. Nephrite didn't think even Beryl could sense his rage. He was far too controlled to let anyone other than Nephrite be aware of his foul mood.

"Your Majesty," Kunzite voiced with an elegant bow, holding Nephrite's gaze with the emotive equivalent of an iron fist.

"Kunzite," Beryl returned, feeling no need to return his gesture with so much as a nod of her head. "Two Dark Kings have come to call... This leads me to believe that there has been news on Jadeite's whereabouts. I hope that I am correct in this venture."

In spite of Kunzite's presence, Nephrite felt bold to speak out. He stepped forward to address his queen when he suddenly found himself staring into grey. Kunzite had managed to step in front of him with his usual air, making it seem so natural that Beryl did not even take note of the oddity of their position.

"I sent Nephrite to inform your highness that Jadeite had been spotted in downtown Tokyo. As it turns out, the sighting was false. A low youma looking for attention and possible advancement. I wanted to inform you both of this at the same time."

"Of course," Beryl said, now utterly disinterested in anything either of them had to say. "Have it killed."

"I'll see to it," Kunzite muttered coldly, glancing over his shoulder at Nephrite as if marking his words as a warning.

"Leave me," Beryl instructed, turning back to her mirror. "Do not bother to inform me of anymore sightings or hoaxes, Kunzite. Simply send word when Jadeite has fallen."

Kunzite nodded, bowing slightly even though she was no longer looking at him. "Yes, Your Grace."

In spite of her dismissive attitude and her obvious want to be rid of them, Nephrite knew he had to give it one more try. "Queen Beryl," he began, his mouth dry as bones left by coyotes in the desert.

"It's best to forget that, Nephrite," Kunzite informed him, turning around completely. "There is nothing more that Queen Beryl needs to be bothered with."

Under normal circumstances, Nephrite would not have questioned his leader when he was using this tone, but the subordinate general was desperate. Jadeite deserved a better death than the one he was being given. He was worthy of their honor and their respect. Nephrite refused to be party to defaming him and even murdering him if it could be helped.

"Queen Beryl..." Nephrite started again, emphasizing every letter separately in hopes of making Kunzite understand what he was trying to do. This was important. This was vital. This was something he had to do only because Kunzite would not do it.

"We're leaving."

Suddenly, Nephrite felt a hand close around his shoulder. A moment later, the world swirled and fell away from him. Gravity or something more unnatural yanked him from where he had stood, and he fell through space. He plummeted through nothing for a few frightening seconds, stumbling when his feet did touch the ground again. Or rather, stumbling when the ground came up under his feet.

He looked around and found himself about as far away as one could be from Beryl's chambers while still being secluded. It was the makeshift garden Zoisite had created, the one thing Nephrite did not completely resent him for. The man had some love for beauty, something that Nephrite found was in extreme contrast to the rest of his personality. The flowers that surrounded them bore some resemblance to those in the rest of the world, but some differences were necessary given the environment they were in. Normal flowers certainly couldn't survive in a frigid, sunless wasteland.  
Still, it was peaceful, and the serene setting was anything but fitting considering the row that was about to transpire.

Nephrite looked up, glaring directly into Kunzite's stone grey eyes. They icy general stood resolute as always, but Nephrite did not let that affect him. He was too enraged to care about his own well-being.

"You forced me out?" Nephrite seethed, hunching his back painfully. "What gives you the right--"

"Aside from rank?" Kunzite interrupted, his voice tight. "The fact that I'm not stupid enough to leave you alone with Beryl gives me that right."

Nephrite felt his cheeks color at Kunzite's uncanny ability to make a grown man feel like a child being scolded. "I don't need your protection."

"You seem to think Jadeite does," Kunzite reminded him, his eyebrows inclining inward. "Do you think so lowly of him if it is so insulting to be protected?"

Nephrite bared his teeth, leaping at Kunzite as a lion would leap at its prey. The other man didn't even blink as Nephrite stood mere centimeters away from his face, his hot breath disturbing Kunzite's pale bangs at his forehead. "Don't mock me!" he bellowed.

"Then don't make a fool out of me," Kunzite warned, his voice grave. "When I give you an order, obey it. Don't go to Beryl offering your neck up for the guillotine because of a twisted sense of loyalty. No man is worth your death."

Nephrite stood staring at Kunzite, chest heaving. He wanted to do anything anything except stand there feeling utterly useless, knowing that every second that ticked by might have been one of Jadeite's last. So he yelled wordlessly and threw himself away, propelling his foot into the wall. The flat side of his boot connected with the stone crushing the yellow flowers that were growing up the sides of the cavern walls. Several petals withered and floated to the ground, destroyed by rage and recklessness.

Kunzite did not speak immediately, but Nephrite felt his cold eyes searing into his back. Kunzite did nothing lightly. Every gesture and phrase had an unsettling intensity. Even now, even with his anger suppressed neatly inside of him, Nephrite knew exactly how furious the man was with him.

It was the first time Nephrite had regarded this knowledge with such apathy.

"We're supposed to be comrades," Nephrite said carefully. "We can't just abandon him like this."

"We have to," Kunzite retorted as if debating a meaningless principle and not a man's life. "Beryl's word is law, Nephrite. You are meant to be loyal to her, not to Jadeite."

"So who do I listen to? You or Queen Beryl?" Nephrite snapped.

"My words are hers," Kunzite answered, completely unaffected. "You know better than this."

"And so do you!" Nephrite yelled, spinning around, his dark curls briefly flying in his face. "You protected him! I don't know how, but you managed it! And now you won't lift a finger! Why?"

Kunzite began to leave sensing the redundancy of the conversation. "I have told you before. I will not tell you again."

Even Nephrite was surprised when he reached out and grabbed Kunzite's arm. He pulled the larger man back, shouting, "No, Kunzite, you didn't. All you did was rattle off meaningless shit and expected me to buy into it without question. I may have made a fool of you, but I was only following my leader's example!"

Kunzite hesitated only briefly, blinking very slowly. "I spoke the truth before, and I will not repeat myself."

"Do it in spite of your annoyance," Nephrite challenged, his glove tightening around Kunzite's forearm. "Try to convince me that this has anything to do with Queen Beryl's indifference towards him when we both know it's a lie."

Kunzite's jaw somehow became sharper, his eyes narrowing so that Nephrite could only see the ink black pupils. He yanked his arm away from Nephrite's grasp and spoke, his voice so cold that Nephrite felt the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention.

"I will not defend a failure," he pronounced plainly. "Not only has he lost Tetis, but when I set the task of killing our enemies before him, he failed miserably."

Nephrite's eyes widened. "When you..."

Kunzite nodded. "Beryl had nothing to do with the order. I calmed her, and she banished me from her sight. The command to get rid of Tuxedo Kamen and Sailor Mercury was my doing, and he failed me. He has left me with no choice."

Nephrite stood still, reeling in disbelief from this information. It was Kunzite who had given him the impossible task. Kunzite who had all but set Jadeite up for his doom. New or not, killing a Senshi was a feat that only Kunzite had ever accomplished with the murder of Sailor V. Kunzite had done it all. Now Kunzite was just as apathetic as Beryl, just as vengeful, and just as willing to see Jadeite dead.

"Why?" Nephrite asked, his voice barely marking above a whisper. "Why would you do that? When you knew how impossible it was, how could you--"

"Desperate men are able to go above and beyond their normal capabilities," Kunzite interrupted, as cold as the air Nephrite could hear blustering outside. "Jadeite had been making too many mistakes. He was behaving below his station. He needed a wake up call."

Nephrite shook his head. "You didn't give him a wake up call. You sent him on a mission that was as good as suicide!"

"I knew that if he were unable to accomplish it, he wasn't worth the wasted breath," Kunzite countered, scowling. "Tetis coming to his aid was unforeseen. I would have stopped her if it had been in my power, but there is nothing to be done about that now. Had Jadeite succeeded with her at his side, I would have left well enough alone. He was given one more chance than I was willing to give him, and he disappointed me. Now I will be calmed with his death."

Before Nephrite became entirely aware of what he was doing, he drew his right arm back sharply. This was all Kunzite's fault. Kunzite had been the catalyst to Jadeite's downward spiral. He had stood at the man's side and feigned sympathy when Jadeite was panicked. He had offered counsel and even comfort when Jadeite had needed it of him, and now it was revealed that it had all been a test. Nephrite had not thought that Kunzite was capable of such manipulative tricks, but now he was shown the truth. He was shown that his leader was nothing more than a murderer, loyal only to himself and to Beryl. Nephrite did not doubt that the situation would not have changed even if Zoisite had been the active general in this case. Kunzite had failed them all, and Nephrite was determined to make him pay for it in some small way now, in a greater way at a later date. He pushed his fist forward, ready to ram it into Kunzite's mouth, pushing those hated words back down his throat.

Kunzite narrowed his eyes as if Nephrite were just an irritation of some kind. Without the slightest indication of effort on his part, Kunzite caught Nephrite's fist with the flat of his palm. Before Nephrite had a chance to come back around with his other hand, Kunzite punched him hard in the ribs. Nephrite gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. He began to fall forward, but Kunzite stopped him, hissing angrily in his ear.

"I am going to forget this ever happened," Kunzite informed him, speaking just loud enough so that Nephrite could hear him as he struggled to breathe again. "You are going to do the same, except what I am about to say to you now.

"If you value your life, you will be calm. You will be silent. And you will be obedient. I need you now that Jadeite is of no use to me."

Kunzite backed away, releasing Nephrite, who managed to keep his footing. Still, he was having a hard time breathing, coughing every few moments. Kunzite looked upon him for a moment, unreadable as ever. Then he turned, craning his head over his shoulder for only one moment to say four words that would haunt Nephrite until the moment of his death.

"I would not enjoy killing you. But I would never hesitate."

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTES

This little gem was cut because in the original version of Chapter Six, Nephrite had a bit more of an emotional reaction to Jadeite's imminent death than Yumeko thought he should have, and she was right. The sole purpose of this scene was to show that the situation with Jadeite was driving Nephrite to distraction, but when his motivation spare his comrade was lessened, there was no reason for Nephrite to speak with Beryl. It really was just another Dark Kingdom scene clogging up an otherwise fast-paced chapter, and it needed to be cut. There is some repeated information here about Kunzite being the one to give Jadeite the orders about killing Mercury and Tuxie, but presented in a much different way. The characterization of Nephrite is off due to his current circumstances, but I still really like this scene. ; And don't worry, this isn't the last time you'll get a look at the DD Girls.

**This scene does not take place within the canon of Hands Fall Together.**


	4. Scene 04: Interruption

Lost Scenes from Hands Fall Together  
Scene Four: Interruption  
by Kihin Ranno

This, Zoisite decided, was not an objectionable way to spend an evening.

Kunzite had come into his room some time earlier, though Zoisite could not be sure of just how much time had passed since then. The other man had been silent and stony as ever as Zoisite had looked up from his fantasies about killing a certain obnoxious auburn-haired Dark King he had the misfortune of knowing. Zoisite had been a bit surprised to see him, standing up from his vanity, and beginning to ask what he was there about. Zoisite never did manage to finish getting that sentence out as Kunzite wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him forward, making sure that Zoisite was well aware of what he was there about.

The pair had stumbled their way back to his bed soon after, divesting each other of their clothes as quickly as coordination could allow them. Even his hair came undone in the process, a fact that Zoisite couldn't help but be mildly irritated by. But he quickly forgot about it as Kunzite was on top of Zoisite, his weight only slightly unpleasant as he crushed his lips to Zoisite's, perhaps trying to wipe them off his face entirely. Zoisite didn't much care, sighing into his mouth and running his hands over Kunzite's back, studying its bones, its muscles, and its scars.

Kunzite's hands were much busier. They were on his neck, on his chest, on his hips, and just about anywhere else he could get too. Kunzite was not what Zoisite would often call a gentle lover, and he was reminded of this when Kunzite bit into his neck a bit harder than usual. Zoisite winced and gasped, unsure of whether or not he should register pain or pleasure. With Kunzite, the two often went hand and hand.

But again, Zoisite couldn't say he minded. He knew that he and the man moving above him both had their own motives for entering into this relationship and neither of them were entirely pure. Nevertheless, he could not deny the gratification he received from it, both instant and otherwise.

Zoisite pulled Kunzite's head away from his neck, pulling it down for another kiss. Kunzite's hands wound around the small of his back, and Zoisite arched upwards as if he were trying to physically mesh the two of them together. He wasn't, of course, but Zoisite didn't think he would mind the company. At least not Kunzite's company. Zoisite's brain started to run away with words like 'forever' and 'commitment' and other such things that would have frightened him into pulling away if it wasn't laughable. That wasn't what any of this was about.

Suddenly, Kunzite stilled, straightening a bit and looking off to the side. He grew pensive, his jaw-line becoming more defined as he clenched his teeth together.

Zoisite lay beneath him, his blood pumping and running an all manner of places other than his brain, and he did not immediately pick up on what Kunzite had realized immediately. Zoisite began to pout and said, "And just what is so interesting that--"

And then he realized what it was. He felt it just as clearly as he had felt Kunzite's weight atop him just a moment ago. It was like a light had gone off some hundreds of miles away, and someone had called to inform him about it.

Jadeite was dead.

It was a lot less anti-climactic than Zoisite had expected, but it didn't lessen the glee that he felt with the realization. Finally, that tow-headed bastard who had probably only gotten by on his looks up to that point was dead. Granted, it wasn't nearly as it would be to have Nephrite out of the way. That man had always had it out for him, whereas Jadeite had at least had the decency to wait before deciding that Zoisite was someone who could not be trusted. Nephrite's intuition was a problem, and his smugness was just so damn annoying that it made Zoisite want to spit poisonous nails into the other man's eyes while he sipped that expensive brandy.

But Zoisite was clever and hid his excitement from Kunzite. The smaller man was observant enough to know that even though Kunzite had been growing increasingly impatient with and even disappointed in Jadeite, there would still be some sense of loss. Jadeite had been his second-in-command, insufferable though he may have been. Showing glee over his death, even though he was disgraced, would bring Kunzite no pleasure.

Zoisite had always been able to pick up on subtle nuances in the behavior of others. He had to with his capacity for cruelty.

"We'd better get dressed," Kunzite rumbled, climbing off the bed and reaching for his pants, pulling them on one leg at a time. "Beryl will waste little time in calling you once she knows."

Zoisite straightened, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to force his hair back into its customary pony tail. "Are you going to tell her?"

Kunzite nodded silently, his eyes dark.

Zoisite slid off the bed, walking over to Kunzite from behind. He wrapped his arms around his bare waist, pulling the larger man towards him. Zoisite rested his cheek on his broad back, breathing in the scent of sweat and shadow. "It's going to be all right you know."

His partner didn't respond, momentarily frozen in the embrace. Seconds later, he exhaled, gently removing himself from Zoisite's arms. He finished dressing, and for the moment, Zoisite was content with watching his movements, quiet and deliberate, speedy without being rushed. It was a natural grace that Zoisite, a man who was naturally awkward who had practiced being otherwise, both envied and admired intensely. Then again, there was a lot about Kunzite that Zoisite envied and admired.

When Kunzite had finished fastening his cape, he turned back to Zoisite. He didn't quite smile, but Zoisite could tell that he was slowly on his way toward contentment again, a fact that Zoisite could pat himself on the back for. Kunzite reached out and stroked Zoisite's face, brushing the rough skin of his thumb over his partner's lips. Zoisite let his eyes flutter closed, his stomach flipping in a pleasant way. It was moments like these that Zoisite enjoyed the most. Kunzite seemed to care about him for awhile, and Zoisite could almost believe that this wasn't a ploy for power on his part and a necessary distraction for his leader and lover. It was almost, as he had told Nephrite and Jadeite some days before, beautiful.

But it was always only for a moment, and it was over all too soon.

Kunzite stepped away, perhaps surprised at his actions and perhaps simply remembering that he had other things to attend to. Either way, the suddenness of his movements was enough to make Zoisite feel a little embarrassed, and he immediately set to pulling his clothes on, far more frenzied than Kunzite ever would. He felt the other man watching him for a minute, and then a quick breeze as Kunzite turned to go.

"I'll see to Beryl," Kunzite said in his normal tone, a sound that filled Zoisite without unresolved vexation.

Zoisite did not even grunt, though he was not a man who grunted, as Kunzite walked forward and then teleported from the room. Zoisite's hands were shaking after he left, and he found it was difficult to fasten the buttons on his jacket. He had to stop and massage his fingers, sighing and muttering things to himself about being a stupid child and how he shouldn't get distracted. He could barely understand himself because he was just saying things, just letting his mouth do whatever it wanted to in order to fill the silence in the room

Because even though the exit had been a kind one, it didn't change the fact that Zoisite was alone again.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This had to be cut because as much as I love gratuitous man sex, it really had no place in the chapter. Also, the two reaction scenes one right after the other was redundant and boring. Given that Nephrite's reaction to Jadeite's death is vitally important to the plot, it had to be kept in. So sadly, this had to be removed from the chapter. You have no idea how much it pained me to put it here.


	5. Scene 05: The Senator vs the Secretary

Lost Scenes from Hands Fall Together  
Scene Five: The Senator versus the Secretary  
by Kihin Ranno  
**This Scene Does Not Take Place within the Canon of Hands Fall Together**

Saito always made a point of arriving at work earlier than was expected of her. She'd been told by her boss of over eight years that she didn't have to, but she knew better than to take that seriously. He was rather notorious not only for showing up to work early, but for never leaving during the night. He was the reason that night-time security had been increased over the past few years. He was also the reason for her worrisome addiction to caffeine, but she didn't blame him. Not much anyway.

That was why Saito wasn't the least bit surprised when she saw a light filtering out from underneath Senator Hino's door. She simply shook her head, wondering what secret crisis had kept the man up all night. She took a sip of her black tea and then strode forward, not bothering to knock as she entered.

"Another all-nighter, Senator?" she asked, tutting. "You know the doctor said--"

"Don't you ever knock?" the senator interrupted, his head snapping up so fast Saito worried it might break off.

She blinked, and thought of how best to respond to that query. "No."

He glared at her, not appreciating her humor. "Well, start."

Knowing better than to cross Senator Hino when he was in one of his legendary moods, Saito simply nodded. "Yes, sir."

Senator Hino looked down at his papers and then gathered a few of them up in his arms. He beckoned for Saito to come closer by jerking his chin at her, and once again, she obeyed. He pushed the papers into her hands and said, "Type those up for me."

Saito glanced down at the crumpled, torn sheets of paper. They had been written in black ink, corrected in blue, and then corrected again in red. She also noticed for the first time that there was a pile of discarded sheets so high that she could no longer see the wastebasket. "A speech? What's this for?" she asked.

Senator Hino glared at her but answered just the same. "It's for the press conference I'm holding today."

Saito blinked three times in rapid succession. She shifted the papers to one arm and started digging through her purse, glad she hadn't put it down with her tea when she'd arrived. "But I don't think I have--"

"It's not on the damn schedule," he said brusquely, pushing his glasses up on his nose as if to punctuate his point.

Saito couldn't keep up with him this morning. And considering the lack of coffee in the room, she had no idea how that was happening. "But you're already having a press conference tomorrow."

"What? Am I only allotted one a week?" Senator Hino asked, his cruel tone making her feel ill at ease.

"Of course not, Senator, but--"

He threw up his hands, yelling, "What business is it of yours what I do with my career? You're not my mentor. You're not my equal. You're just my secretary! It is your job to dictate, type my speeches, and do whatever the hell else is in your job description!"

"Including coming in at seven o'clock every morning," Saito muttered bitterly.

"What was that?" he demanded, his blue eyes inflamed.

"Nothing," Saito said, forcing a smile even though she knew he wasn't going to be charmed. She looked down at the papers again and saw something even more surprising. The speech wasn't about any normal political issue; it was about Tuxedo Kamen and those other two child-like warriors.

Saito looked up in shock. "You're going to talk about the Sailor Senshi?"

"Yes," he snapped, bending down and rifling through his drawers.

This she couldn't dismiss as one of his moods. Something was definitely wrong with the Senator, and she wasn't going to type anything for him until she found out what it was. "Senator, if you'll permit me--"

"If you're not going to finish that sentence by asking permission to go type those papers, I strongly suggest you rethink saying it," Senator Hino warned, his teeth clenched so that the world came out like a growl.

Try as he might, the senator was not going to make Saito sway. "These people are not a political issue."

That made Senator Hino laugh, but not in any way that made Saito feel better. "They are responsible for over 118,355,000 yen in damage, were in a position to harm members of our military, and probably murdered a man."

The absurdity of the conversation made Saito bold, not that she needed much goading. "The collateral damage was done principally by the things they were trying to protect us from, the only thing they did to your precious soldiers was give them a few bruises from when the Senshi were knocked into them, and the man they supposedly murdered was more than likely the one attempting to slaughter people in order to lure them out."

"We have no proof of that," Senator Hino maintained.

"We also don't have proof to contradict that," Saito said, the volume of her voice beginning to increase.

Senator Hino shook his head and then slammed his drawers shut with a bang that shook the pictures on the walls. Saito didn't jump. "These are children wielding dangerous powers! They are indirectly responsible for the deaths at the hospital, and there is no telling what else could happen!"

"That was a monster!"

"That might not have come here had they not been flashing their magic around!"

Saito glared openly at her employer. "You've never mentioned any of these feelings before."

"I've always felt this way," the senator informed her. "Normally, I try to stay away from controversial issues in order to maintain a large base of voters, but this is something I can't ignore any longer."

Saito shook her head. "I don't believe you."

"Are you calling me a liar?" Senator Hino demanded.

Saito shrugged. "I don't know what I'm calling you, but you are not acting like yourself, Senator Hino."

"Don't tell me how I ought to--"

"Your doctor told you that you should be taking it easy," Saito interrupted. "He told you that if you didn't lower your stress levels, you might suffer a psychotic break."

Senator Hino started to turn red. "I am not crazy!"

"Then stop acting like it!" Saito returned.

"You're fired!"

Saito stared. She froze in place, feeling like her surroundings were starting to blur. She couldn't believe that she'd heard that right.

"I'm sorry?" she asked hoarsely.

"You heard me," the senator spat. "You're fired! Collect your things and get out."

Saito couldn't believe it. She had slaved for that man for nearly a decade. She had taken him to the doctor when she thought he could be suffering from anxiety attacks, she made sure the cleaning service knew exactly how to keep his office clean, she made all of his appointments, and she'd even spent a fair amount of time telling his sad little daughter that her father was too busy to talk to her even though it had broken her heart every damn time. And now she was fired.

"Well, then... if that's what you want," Saito said softly. She took a deep breath and shoved the papers back into his arms. "Type your own God damn speech, you ungrateful son of a bitch."

With that, Saito knew that her time with Senator Hino was done. She turned on her heel and stomped out of the office, taking care to slam the door behind her as she walked out of his life.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTES

This scene was in the original draft of the eighth chapter, but I cut it in favor of having the scene with Senator Hino's mentor. One of my big problems with Part Eight was that everyone seemed to be against Senator Hino, which is sort of ridiculous. I was planning on having it be clear there were others on his side in later chapters, but just reading chapter eight without knowing that made reading it pretty bad. ; Anyway, I really liked Saito, but I couldn't justify having yet another scene establishing Senator Hino's descent, so out this one went. Besides, it doesn't really fit in with the time continuity anymore.


	6. Scene 06: Family Matters

Lost Scenes from Hands Fall Together  
Scene Six: Family Matters  
by Kihin Ranno

"So, what's for dinner?" Usagi asked, plopping down into a seat positioned as far away from her father as possible.

He looked up, his left eyebrow twitching. "Whatever it is, you ought to take small portions tonight, Usagi. After all, you spent enough money shopping today to feed a small country. No, make that a medium-sized country."

"Papa, I said I was sorry."

"Sorry doesn't pay the bills."

"Does 'I love you?'"

"For the fifth time, no."

Usagi pouted. "Papa, I told you, as soon as I become a famous idol OR I marry an incredibly rich husband, you'll forget all about this money stuff."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Kenji muttered.

"Enough of that, both of you," Ikuko hissed as she brought out the nights vegetable: carrots.

Usagi's face fell. "But mom, I hate--"

"Your brother likes them," Ikuko interrupted, her jaw tense.

Normally, it wasn't enough to deter Usagi's whining. But for now, it was enough to make her close her mouth and comply.

"Where is he, anyway?" Kenji asked quietly, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Still upstairs," Usagi answered. "I told him to come down, but--"

"Could you go get him, Usagi?" Ikuko asked. "I still have things to do in the kitchen."

Usagi started to ask why her father couldn't go see what Shingo was up to when she thought better of it. She should have realized that 'things to do in the kitchen' was code for 'talk to your father about Shingo.' She didn't like the fact that her mother hadn't just come out and said that, but she was willing to ignore it for the time being. She nodded and pushed her chair back, moving to go see what Shingo was up to.

Although, she was already fairly certain she knew what Shingo was doing. He would more than likely be lying on his bed, curled up on his side and staring at the wall. He'd been doing the same thing almost constantly ever since the incident outside of the Crown Arcade. Even when he'd been told that no one had been killed, Shingo had not been cheered. It had been a fight to get him to do anything: including eat, shower, and go to school. Every once in awhile, he'd become active, but he was by no means healed by his experience. Usagi had heard her parents whispering about getting some professional help when they thought their children were asleep. She suspected that's what they were talking about now.

When Usagi reached his bedroom, she stopped and knocked at the door. Normally, she wasn't so polite, but they were all walking on eggshells with him now, herself included. She didn't know how to interact with a brother who wouldn't even look at her.

"Shingo?" Usagi called out. "You awake?"

There was no answer.

Usagi sighed and pushed the door open a little. She peaked through the crack and saw that Shingo was indeed in his bed, but his eyes were wide open. She walked in the rest of the way, flinging herself onto the bed so that the springs creaked and bounced underneath her weight. She waited.

"Well?" she asked after awhile.

Shingo sat prone for a moment before pulling his gaze from the wall. He looked at her and said, "What?"

"Aren't you going to tell me I shouldn't eat so many sweets because I'm about to break your bed?" Usagi joked awkwardly. She swallowed. "Or something. You insult people better than I do."

Shingo snorted and turned back to the wall. "Right."

Usagi frowned and reached out for her brother, laying a hand on his shoulder. She was surprised when he didn't automatically pull away. "Come on, Shingo. It's dinnertime."

"So?" he asked, acting as though he couldn't even be bothered to pull away from her.

Usagi bit her lip. "So you have to eat."

"I'm not--"

"You haven't been hungry for almost two weeks," Usagi said loudly. "That's not natural, Shingo."

Shingo snorted. "Maybe for you."

His insults had never made her smile before, but this time, she couldn't help but grin a bit. "That's more like you. Now, why don't you come downstairs and eat a little." She paused, waiting for his response. "Mom made carrots for you."

"You hate carrots," Shingo said, as if that had anything to do with how their mother planned the menu.

Usagi rested her chin on his shoulder and said, "I'll eat some and make that awful face you like so much."

Of all things, that seemed to perk Shingo up. "Really?"

"But only if you come downstairs."

"Well, I couldn't see the face if I stayed up here, stupid Usagi."

Usagi sat up straight and put her hands on her hips. "Don't call me stupid!"

Shingo sighed wearily. "What did I do to get saddled with such a sister?"

"Why you little--" Usagi grabbed a pillow and proceeded to beat him with it. When Shingo started to flail, threatening to kick her somewhere painful, Usagi leapt up and threw her whole weight onto her little brother, though she took care to keep the pillow away from his face.

"That will teach you to insult your very wise and very beautiful sister," Usagi ground out.

Shingo wheezed. "My incredibly fat sister, you mean. Careful, Usagi, you'll break every bone in my body if you keep this up."

Usagi felt her cheeks color. "You are such a brat! I come up here, very concerned about you, and all you do is insult me!"

"I thought you wanted me to insult you."

"...That is completely different."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"IS NOT!"

"IS TOO!"

"Shingo! Usagi!" Kenji called out in his "scary voice." "Both of you need to get down here this minute, or your mother and I will eat your dinners too!"

For Usagi, this was the worst possible thing that could be done to her, carrotts or no. She immediately leapt off her brother and started to run out the door. However, at the last minute, she rethought her decision. She reached back and grabbed Shingo by the wrist, quite literally dragging him the rest of the way.

"ACK! Usagi! What are you doing?"

"You are going to eat dinner with us, and you're going to enjoy yourself," Usagi ordered as she pulled him down the stairs. "And just for being so mean to me, I will not eat the vegetable tonight just so you can see my face."

"Exactly," Ikuko interrupted just as Shingo and Usagi reached the bottom of the stairs. She smiled serenly and held out a fork with a carrott attached to the end. "You're going to eat them because I said so."

Usagi's face fell, her shoulders drooping so much that she probably resembled a monkey. "But Mama..."

"No buts," Ikuko said, pushing the fork into Usagi's face.

Usagi looked up at her mother, tears filling her eyes. "You're always so mean to me..."

Kenji and Shingo both groaned. "Here we go."

"You yell at me just because I go out and have fun like a normal teenage girl. You threaten to turn me out on the street like some stray animal. And now you try to feed me the absolute worst food in the world." Usagi's lower lip trembled. "It's not FAIR!" she wailed, continuing to cry with her mouth wide open.

Shingo covered his ears. "I came down for this?"

Kenji rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses. "Why does she have to have such good lungs?"

Usagi sniffled and started crying even louder. "You're all so-- AHH!"

Ikuko smiled as she pulled the now empty fork from Usagi's mouth. "There, now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Usagi looked up at her mother, gagging and coughing, while her brother and father laughed at her predicament. Finally, Usagi forced herself to swallow. "That wasn't nice," Usagi muttered, glaring at her mother.

Ikuko reached over and patted the top of Usagi's head. "You'll thank me when you're seventy years old and still have 20/20 vision."

Usagi pouted and folded her arms across her chest. "Somehow, I doubt that."

"All right, everyone!" Ikuko exclaimed. "I expect clean plates and no complaints from anyone tonight."

Usagi sighed even as her mother kept prattling on. "I bet Sailor V doesn't have to eat carrots."

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTES

This scene got cut because this really slowed everything up. Originally, Ikuko was going to bring up the other conference at this point in the story, but I ended up spending way too much time on the Shingo stuff. Rather than cut a bunch of it and try to make it readable, I decided to just have a shorter scene the next morning and make this a lost scene.


	7. Scene 07: An Extended BreakUp

Lost Scenes from Hands Fall Together  
Scene Seven: An Extended Break-Up  
by Kihin Ranno

Motoki walked over to the hamper, pulling his clothes out. He pulled his jeans on quickly, swallowing a number of curses when they failed to zip easily. He put his arms through the button-down but didn't bother to do it up. He turned back and saw Reika staring at him, crying silently. 

"You're leaving."

He nodded. "I don't see much point in staying," he told her, regretting it when he saw her face screw up in pain. He hated doing that. It made him want to break his own nose, but there were things he had to say and do to get the message across. "Unless you give me a reason."

Reika looked at him, hands waving in vague, helpless gestures. He'd never seen her like this before. He didn't like it. "I don't want you to go," she whispered brokenly.

Any other time her plea would have been enough. "Neither do I," he confessed, meaning it perhaps more than he ever had in his life. "I love you, Reika. You know that, and you should know…" he trailed off. Wasted words, wasted time. "Give me a reason, Reika. Please, please give me a reason."

Reika just kept looking at him. The quiet went on for so long that Motoki wondered if maybe they'd both gone deaf. He couldn't hear the normal city sounds or the people in the flat above them wandering about. Not even his own breathing reached his ears. Nothing mattered right now except Reika's voice telling him what he needed to hear to make him kiss her and whisper that he would never bring this moment up again.

"I'm afraid, Motoki," she said finally, her voice quiet. "You can't blame me for being afraid."

He shut his eyes and bowed his head. He took a few deep breaths and tried to think of how everything could suddenly go so horribly wrong.

"I can, actually," Motoki said, turning to go. "Good-bye, Reika."

There wasn't so much as a second between the moment he threatened to go and the moment she wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him. Her face was wet against his back. "Motoki, don't."

Motoki sighed, clenching both of his fists. Nothing had ever been this hard before. "If you're really that afraid we won't make it, Reika, then I don't see the point," Motoki murmured, his heart shattering in his chest.

Reika froze. "The point in staying, or… the point in being with me?"

It took him several tries before he could actually speak. "You'll be accepted, Reika. I know you will, even if you don't. And if you're going to spend the whole year thinking I'm having it off with other girls, and if you think you can't… can't trust me." He swallowed, trying to stop his mouth from being so dry. "Then maybe we shouldn't."

Reika went stiff as a corpse behind him. He felt her breath shudder, and she buried her nose into his back. He wanted to say something to make it better, but he couldn't think of what that could possibly be. Besides, it would sound hollow.

He decided that he'd better get out now before she got angry and made the argument stretch out until they couldn't even remember a time when they'd cared. He exhaled unsteadily and started to pull himself out of her desperate embrace.

Suddenly, Reika's arms were gone, and he felt her fingers latching on to his arm. He was spun around violently, flinching in anticipation of a slap that never came. Before he could twitch, her lips were on his with enough force to bruise. He'd read kissing described as drowning before and always thought it was rubbish, but now he understood. He couldn't catch his breath. He felt so utterly overwhelmed that he had to grasp her arms to hold himself up. Skin touched skin, and he remembered that she wasn't wearing anything more than a towel. He quickly extricated his body from hers, forcing himself to stand on his own so that he could keep his hands to himself. If this really was their last kiss, it was going to be just that. He wouldn't do that to her, and he wasn't stupid enough to do that to himself.

After what he wished had been hours, she pulled back just enough to let him know it was finished. She took a few deep breaths, panting, and hissed against his lips. "Get out."

He heard her walk back into the bathroom, shutting the door calmly behind her. She was upset, but she wasn't going to let him see it. He didn't have that right anymore.

Motoki once again made to leave. He kept his eyes closed the entire time, narrowly avoiding furniture and tripping over the rug. He didn't want a last look around the apartment. He didn't want to gather up the possessions that had accumulated over time. He only wanted to escape, terrified that if he stopped and saw a picture of happier times, he would break apart like glass, shattered and useless on the floor.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTES

Originally, the Motoki/Reika stuff was all at the top of the chapter, but one of my beta suggested that the actual fight might work better in flashback form, just to mix it up a bit and not have a twenty-page scene dealing with secondary characters. When I wrote it like that, it became clear that Motoki wasn't likely to relate something this personal to Mamoru, so it had no business being in the flashback. I think it's sad because it's rather touching, but ultimately, it was for the best.


	8. Scene 08: Hugs and Leftovers

Lost Scenes from Hands Fall Together  
Scene Eight: Hugs and Leftovers  
by Kihin Ranno

"You went home, didn't you?" 

"Why didn't you stop me?" Motoki asked, sounding even more wrecked than he had been the night before.

Mamoru ushered him into the apartment, raising his eyebrows at the way Motoki literally dragged his feet behind him. "I hoped you might realize it was a bad idea on your own."

"I thought Unazuki should know," Motoki explained, his shoulder resting against the foyer wall as Mamoru once again did the locks up again. "She liked Reika a lot. And Reika liked her."

Mamoru was happy he wasn't looking at Motoki so that his friend couldn't see his frustration. "Motoki, please try not to talk as though Reika has died."

"Sorry," Motoki mumbled. "But I still thought she should know what's going on."

Mamoru shook his head as he turned, his hand wrapped around the doorknob. "Now you've upset her, and you don't even know if it's a permanent thing yet."

Motoki shuffled awkwardly, both of his hands snaking into pockets. "I just thought--"

"You wanted a hug, didn't you?" Mamoru deadpanned.

Motoki visibly deflated, and Mamoru was struck by how young he looked when his motives were so plainly stated. He gave Mamoru a dark look and said, "Well, I could hardly have Usagi do it all things considered. If Reika heard about it, then there'd really be no hope for us. And it's not as if you're Mr. Huggable."

"As I have told you time and again, for a modest fee--"

"15,000 yen is not modest."

"My hugs are a very rare beast," Mamoru said with a shrug. "Seldom spotted and never ever photographed. Thus, they are a bit on the pricey side."

"There are those who do not think they actually exist," Motoki continued, his mouth almost breaking into a smile. "They say they're nothing more than myth you concocted while you were drugged up on morphine in high school."

Mamoru would have liked to continue this line of discussion, but he'd run out of pithy comments. "Tell me what happened," he ordered, once again steering Motoki into the living room. He continued back to the kitchen to finish his dinner.

Motoki fell face first onto the couch as if he'd had a heart attack, but quickly decided that it was hard to talk into the cushions. He shook his head and pushed himself up on his elbows. "Unazuki cried--"

Mamoru mumbled something akin to "I told you so."

Motoki glared but pressed on. "Dad thought the best thing to do would be to distract me by talking politics. You know, I love the man, but he's never really known what to do when one of his children is upset. He has the same solution every time, and it always backfires. You'd think he'd learn."

"He's still hoping you'll have a change of heart about running for office," Mamoru said.

"Probably," Motoki admitted. "But Mama was the worst."

Mamoru nodded. He'd assumed as much.

"I don't understand it," Motoki snapped, aiming a punch at one of Mamoru's throw pillows. "About any other issue, she's the sensitive one. I could fail a course, run over a puppy, or go to jail, and there she'd be with open arms. But get her on the subject of Reika, and it's like the woman ceases to exist."

"I know," Mamoru agreed. "I've don't understand it either."

"Who knows? She says she feels I fell too hard too fast, but I honestly think she just dislikes her for no reason other than to drive me to distraction." He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. When I told them the news, I swear she looked… kind of happy. I might be reading into that too much; it might have just been relief. As if that isn't bad enough."

Mamoru reverted to his default head nod, once again feeling that this particular subject was too sensitive for him to tread on in case he wound up swallowing his foot.

"Do you mind if I stay here tonight?" Motoki asked, finally getting to the point.

"You mind sleeping on the couch?"

Motoki shrugged. "It was comfortable enough last night."

"Fine with me then," Mamoru said, swallowing the last of his dinner and getting up to load his dishes into the dishwasher.

Motoki spared him a grateful smile, his lips white against his pale skin. "Thanks."

"Any time," Mamoru said, dropping his voice in pitch.

He was clueless about what to do in the face of emotional problems than Motoki's father. Should he push Motoki towards a reconciliation or tell him to wash his hands of the situation once and for all? He had no idea how to stage this rescue, and he didn't even know if that was expected of him.

"Got any more of that?" Motoki called from the living room.

Mamoru smiled to himself. "Yeah. Made enough for two."

"Expecting company?" Motoki asked, his voice flat.

Mamoru shook his head as he began to spoon the remaining portion onto a plate. "Nah," he answered. He paused, glancing over at Luna, who seemed to have deemed it was best to just ignore that this stupidity was continuing to happen around her and that her water bowl was in fact infinitely more interesting and far less vexing. "Leftovers."

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTES

I am sorry to lose this scene for two reasons: the hug exchange and the leftovers bit. Other than that, it's really pointless. There's a possibility Motoki's mother may make an appearance at some point, but right now, I don't foresee it. Since this dialogue isn't a deliberate set-up, I don't need it, so out it goes.


	9. Scene 09: Epiphany

Lost Scenes from Hands Fall Together  
Scene 09: Epiphany  
by Kihin Ranno  
**This Scene Does Not Take Place within the Canon of Hands Fall Together**

Twenty-four hours later, Mamoru was still sick of it.

"Why don't you just call her?" he asked for what felt like the fiftieth time, feeling that he was being perfectly reasonable about the situation.

Motoki let out the most depressing sigh Mamoru had ever been forced to witness. "No."

"And why not?"

Motoki dragged his dirty dishtowel over the countertop without his usual enthusiasm. "She won't answer."

Mamoru blinked very slowly. "Well, have you actually tried calling her?"

Motoki looked like a child whenever they are confronted with sound logic. "No."

"Then how do you know she won't pick up."

"'Cause she won't."

Mamoru ripped open a sugar packet with more vehemence than was necessary, dumping it into his already oversweetened coffee. "You are the most pathetic human being currently alive. You do realize this."

"Yeah."

There was a great deal more that could be said in response to this, but Mamoru was momentarily distracted by the sound of the doors opening. He was expecting Ami and Rei to arrive at any moment, but he was marginally annoyed to see that it was Usagi and her little brother coming for a visit. The boy looked a little pale, jumpier than he had been before, but he wasn't so nervous that he couldn't scowl in Mamoru's direction.

"_He's_ here," Shingo murmured to his older sister.

"He does that," Usagi said, shaking her head. She paused to wave at Motoki and called out, "Hello, Motoki! Are you feeling any better today?"

Mamoru laughed dryly. "That would be a no."

"Aren't you supposed to be his friend?" Shingo asked, still scowling.

Mamoru leveled a glare at the young boy's direction. "Aren't you supposed to be seen and not heard?"

Usagi rolled her eyes dramatically and reached into her pocket, giving her brother a handful of coins. "Shingo, why don't you go play the Sailor V game? See if you can beat my score."

Shingo scoffed. "Can't be that hard." Usagi looked ready to yell at him for that, but he scooted off to do as he'd been instructed. But not before giving Mamoru one last dirty look.

Usagi hobbled over to the counter and took a seat a space down from Mamoru. It took her a moment to get properly settled, but she seemed a bit more used to it than she had been before. She shook her head and said, "He's been a bit weird ever since the attack. This is the first time I've been able to get him out of the house, and I think that's just because I said I'd pay for everything."

"That's all right," Mamoru grumbled, taking a sip from his coffee.

"I wasn't apologizing. Actually, that's the most normal he's been for days. I was saying it so you wouldn't be mean to him anymore." She paused, frowning at him. "But I don't know why I bothered since it's you were talking about."

Mamoru clenched his jaw. "Bundle of sweetness and light, you Tsukinos are."

"We know, but thank you," she chirped entirely too brightly. "So, what's the matter with you, Motoki? I don't like seeing you this upset every time I come in here. Come on. Tell me your problems. I'm sure I have a better chance of helping that Tall, Dark, and Annoying over here."

Mamoru shook his head, swallowing. "See, you border on the edge of clever, but you just never quite make it."

"And you're still a jerk," Usagi maintained, sticking her tongue out for good measure. She reached forward and patted Motoki's wrist sympathetically. "Come on. Talk to me."

"You really don't want to open this can of worms," Mamoru warned her quietly.

Usagi glared at him and hissed, "Just because you're incapable of human emotion—"

"I am not incapable of anything."

"You can't seem to be nice to save your life."

"I kept you from falling over the other day, didn't I?"

"You were probably planning on dropping me again but decided not to when you remembered there were witnesses."

"Do you sit up all night thinking about this crap?"

"Oh, is that how long it takes you to come up with all your comments? I had been wondering."

"You sound like an old married couple," Motoki interrupted despondently. "Stop it. You're depressing me."

Usagi turned bright red. "We do not! We absolutely do not; how dare you say such a thing!"

"Thanks for the nightmares, Motoki," Mamoru drawled, holding up his mug in a mock toast. "I owe you absolutely nothing."

Motoki visibly deflated, his shoulders drooping painfully. "I'm never going to get married."

Mamoru shook his head, cursing the moment Usagi had walked in the door. "Here we go again."

"I'm never going to fall in love again," Motoki continued. "I had my chance. But then I let it go. I walked out of her apartment, out of her life, out of everything because of that God damn letter."

"You sound like you're still drunk," Mamoru confided. "Stop talking."

Usagi held up both of her hands, her blue eyes wide. "Wait a minute. Are you saying that you… have a girlfriend?"

"Had," Motoki corrected morosely. "Past tense."

"Oh," Usagi said, her voice very small. She looked down at her hands resting in her lap, her fingers twitching and playing with each other as if there was something of interest to play with. Her lips trembled a bit and her voice definitely broke. It was easier to tell with Usagi. She was more prone to crying. "I hadn't… I hadn't known that you were seeing someone."

Motoki laid his chin inside of his palm and closed his eyes. "If I'd known it wasn't going to last much longer, I would have hired skywriters to say, 'I love Nishimura Reika.' Do you think that would have fixed things?"

"I doubt it," Mamoru assured.

"You loved her," Usagi repeated, sounding as if she was about to start wailing at any moment. "I guess you really, really loved her if you're this upset about losing her."

Motoki nodded. "You have no idea."

Usagi took a deep breath, licking her lips. "Did she, um… love you back?"

"I like to think so," Motoki answered quietly. "I like to think she's just as miserable as I am."

Mamoru remembered the previous day's events and his near molestation at the hands of Reika. Afraid that Motoki would somehow be able to read the guilt on his face, Mamoru turned to look more at Usagi, who suddenly looked fragile. He'd started to think of her as strangely resilient after everything she'd been through. He remembered the jewelry store, the flower shop, her bemused face just before Jadeite's last attack, the crutches laying against the bar. She'd survived all of that, and this was threatening to crush her. He didn't know whether to be sympathetic or disappointed. After all, she was only a kid getting her heart broken for the first time.

"I hope everything works out," Usagi whispered sincerely. "Excuse me. I'm just going to go check on Shingo." She sniffed loudly and began the struggle to get down.

Mamoru chewed on the inside of his cheek for a second. "Do you need help?"

"Not from you," she muttered, perhaps more sharply than intended. He could never be sure if she meant to be as caustic as she was with him when she really was all sweetness and light to every other person she met. Whatever the case, he let it go, ready to come to her rescue if she fell again.

She made it one piece, hobbling off to the bathroom at the back of the arcade.

Mamoru exhaled, shutting his eyes after she left, turning to look back at Motoki. Not surprisingly, he was clueless as to the damage he'd caused. Motoki was generous, but when he fell to pieces, it was difficult for him to see the cracks in other people.

Shaking his head, Mamoru turned to see if Ami and Rei were going to pop in and save him from this horrible scenario. However, what he actually saw was not the sort of thing that would make things better. It was going to be another wrench in the works.

There was Reika, obviously still tipsy from the night before, and hanging on the arms of two equally unsteady, good-looking men. Both of them looked thrilled at the fact that Reika was even paying attention to them, making Mamoru question the taste of the other members of his sex. And to top it off, they had decided to stall in the most inappropriate place possible: directly in front of the glass front of the arcade.

"Hell," Mamoru swore, wondering if there was any way he could prevent this confrontation from occurring. He was about to distract Motoki by spilling coffee all over the place when one of the men stepped just close enough to the sensor to open the doors.

Motoki glanced over on instinct. He stopped. He took in what he saw. And then he turned a very funny color and looked decidedly less pathetic.

"Be right back," he grumbled, hopping over the counter and tossing his apron onto the floor.

Mamoru quickly got up and followed. "No way am I just going to sit here."

Motoki didn't seem to notice. He just stalked right out to the sidewalk where Reika was, laughing and tripping over her own feet. She tossed her hair and caught sight of Motoki. She seemed to trip and land in Buffoon #1's arms on accident, but Mamoru knew that sometimes women pretended to be klutzes in order to be saved. He'd always thought better of Reika.

"Oh, hi!" she practically shouted, her voice shrill and grating. "What a nice surprise. Boys, this is my old boyfriend. The schmuck."

In the time it took Mamoru to blink, Motoki changed from a man who had just been emotionally punched in the stomach to a man perfectly willing and able to punch someone else's stomach. He'd never been a particularly intimidating force, but even Mamoru was surprised by the amount of venom in Motoki's voice. "Schmuck or not, so help me God, I will rip you both three new assholes apiece if you don't get off her. Now."

Mamoru had never been so grateful for a sudden mood swing in his life. Both of Reika's companions seemed to think that it was more important that they go home and sober up than fight for the affections of one woman. This gave Mamoru hope for the remainder of his gender, so he viewed their retreating backs with a measure of satisfaction and relief. However, there was still a very large problem to resolve in front of him.

Reika pouted and hopped onto the hood of a parked car, crossing her legs in a manner that would have been fetching in another circumstance. "You chased them away. That's very rude, you know."

Motoki clenched both of his fists, his knuckles white and his frame trembling. "I don't believe you. I have been… I have been an absolute wreck, and you've been out barhopping?"

"It's called moving on, baby," Reika informed him in a sickly sweet voice. "And speaking of moving, I really can't sit here looking pretty all day, but I'm sure you'd just follow me down the streets like some lost puppy dog until you've had your say, so have at it. But make it quick, there are better places for me to be."

At first, Mamoru thought Motoki would crumble beneath the familiar dog analogy, and for a moment, it looked as though he was right. But just as Motoki seemed to be crushed beneath her arrogance, Motoki pulled himself together. He relaxed his muscles, straightening his hunched shoulders and looked her directly in the eye.

"Reika, what's the matter with you?"

"Nothing," she insisted again. "I've gotten better, far better than I could have ever been attached to you."

Motoki shook his head. "Are you trying to put on some kind of show because you lacked confidence about getting the fellowship?"

Reika snorted and examined her nails. For the first since Mamoru had met her, the polish was chipped. "As if I care about that studying abroad anymore."

That made both Mamoru and Motoki balk. "What?" they chorused.

Reika sniffed. "I think I'm just a little too fabulous to be trotting around Equatorial Guinea in khakis, don't you agree?"

Mamoru narrowed his eyes. Something about Reika was definitely not right. Up to this point, he'd assumed what Motoki had proposed: Reika was trying to assert her independence and confidence in the wake of the break-up. It was intervention worthy (just not from him) and disturbing, but this added layer to her personality made him wonder.

"The Reika I know wouldn't give up an opportunity like that for eye candy," Mamoru murmured quietly.

Motoki nodded, looking frantic. "You're starting to scare me, Reika."

"Already scaring me," Mamoru muttered, looking around. He couldn't be sure if he was right, not without Rei. Haruna and the Senator had been frenetic, absolutely crazed when infected by the Dark Kingdom's magic. Reika was acting oddly, but it wasn't the same. She seemed perfectly in control, alarmingly so. She'd always been capable, but now there was a kind of cold competence that hung around her shoulders. It wasn't flattering.

Suddenly, the doors slid open behind them. Usagi and a visibly uneasy Shingo exited the arcade. She kept her head down, but Mamoru was willing to bet she'd been crying.

Before Mamoru could analyze her disposition any longer, a sick feeling rose in his stomach, just as strong as those waves of nausea. He fought to stay on his feet. He knew this feeling intimately. It was the same as he'd felt before many of his battles, including the last one although it had not been this strong. He'd never been able to come up with a good reason for why it only happened sometimes. Now there seemed to be a very good if completely inexplicable reason.

Usagi had been present every time.

"Oh," Usagi whispered when Shingo stopped her from bumping into Mamoru. "Sorry, I wasn't…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "We were just leaving."

Mamoru's head swam. He could barely think. The coffee in his system was threatening to come back up the way it came, and sweat had broken out all over his body. He had to get Usagi out of there quickly. This pain confirmed his worst suspicions, and if his calculations were correct, things were going to explode at any minute.

"Motoki," Mamoru ground out between his teeth. "Why don't you help Usagi home?"

His friend gave him an incredulous look. "Mamoru, this is hardly the time. If you're so gung-ho about it, why don't you do it?"

"The kid will kick me," Mamoru drawled, not doubting this fact for a minute.

"I don't need any help," Usagi said coldly. It was new for her and a bit of a shock for Mamoru's system. "Come on, Shingo."

Brother and sister gave Mamoru an almost identical withering glare before turning and walking away. As a final test to his theory, Mamoru closed his eyes and focused on his own pain, shutting the argument between Reika and Motoki out of his mind. He faced it head on, experiencing every moment and refusing to shut it out. All he thought about was his own agony, and he waited.

It lessened.

Mamoru opened his eyes and saw Usagi and Shingo slowly making their way across the street. It seemed with every step, his torment lessened. The churning in his stomach subsided and his head stopped threatening to rip itself apart.

So she was the key.

And what the hell did that mean?

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTES

This scene ultimate got rewritten because there was no reason for Usagi to be there, and I decided that it was way too early for Mamoru to find out about the root of his physical freak-outs. I actually wasn't planning for that to happen in this chapter at all, but then Mamoru figured it out on his own. There'd be no way to hide that information from him without making this fanfic into _Heroes_, where character intelligence is sacrificed for the sake of plot. That certainly wasn't going to happen, so out Usagi went. It makes the chapter spiral out of control a lot faster than I expected, but I think that wound up working all things considered. So, this goes here as there was some good Usagi/Mamoru dialogue I didn't want to lose forever.


End file.
